


FWTST 2 Electric Boogaloo

by MeekoMyachi



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Deaf Frisk (Undertale), F/M, Minor Character Death, No More Resets (Undertale), Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Slow Burn, reader identifies as female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23215168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeekoMyachi/pseuds/MeekoMyachi
Summary: A rewrite of the hit fanfiction For Whom the Skel Tolls, now with some differences!The original fic can be foundHERE!
Relationships: Sans/Reader
Comments: 41
Kudos: 143





	1. Welcome (Back) to Hell

You’re early. 

It’s a good habit that you’ve gotten yourself into. You’d rather be way too early than way too late, especially on the first day of a job that’s your actual literal dream. This is the second to last step in completing your education. Finally. 

You pat at your chest to make sure once again that you remembered your staff badge you had been given when you did your paperwork. It’s there. You drink some of the coffee from your thermos. 

Whose idea was it to be  _ this _ early, again? 

You watch the door to the elementary school, not wanting to be the first person in just in case you can’t unlock the door with your badge yet. It would be kind of sketchy to be hanging around the door, even if you are technically an employee. Is a student teacher an official employee of the school itself? You’re getting paid. You’re not really a traditional student teacher either, though. A third grade class wasn’t really your first choice - you would have preferred an older age group, you think - but it was an opportunity you absolutely couldn’t turn down. A deaf child is starting school today and needs a translator. You, with your almost-finished degree and your fluency in sign language, were an immediate solution, regardless of your technical lack of qualifications. 

A small old lady approaches the door, and you quickly gather your belongings and get out of your car, beeping the alarm on as you go. You half-jog up to the door to hold it open for her as she pulls it, and she looks up at you, startled. Poor thing even jumps a bit. 

“Oh! It’s just you,” she says, relieved. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning, Mrs. Anderson,” you say. She walks into the building and you follow suit. 

“Are you excited for your first day?” she asks. The two of you walk down a hallway and around a corner, finding the elevators. She presses the button to call for one. 

“Yup,” you reply. “I looked over the new kid’s papers over the weekend.”

“What did you think?” 

There wasn’t too much information on the sheet, besides that the child is deaf and gender neutral. “I have to wonder, with the names of their guardians, are they..?”

She smiles at you knowingly as you both step into the elevator. “You’ll meet their guardians after school today, don’t forget.” 

That’s right. They couldn’t meet you over the weekend so it had to wait until today, which still didn’t leave you with much time to prepare for it. This whole new job and new kid in class thing was all very sudden. The elevator dings and the two of you walk down one more hall until you reach a door, room 304. Mrs. Anderson unlocks the door and turns on the light as she walks in. You try to catch the door to hold open for her as she pulls on it. 

It’s exactly what you remember. Maybe you were never in this specific classroom, but you did go to school here, once upon a time. You make your way through the rows of desks with little nametags on them and lock your bag in the cabinet in the back corner of the room. One desk sort of in the middle of the room catches your eye. 

Frisk.

You let your gaze linger on it for a moment before you start helping Mrs. Anderson set up for the day. You write the date in blue on the whiteboard, followed by the day’s schedule. Writing, then reading, then science. After lunch is math and social studies, with another recess somewhere in between. They have an art class with another teacher scheduled today. You step back a bit, making sure that you wrote large enough and clear enough without taking up too much of the space on the whiteboard. Satisfied, you take a look out of the window, out into the parking lot where you can see children starting to come to the doors. You take the time to straighten up your little desk, which is at the back of the room near the cabinet.

It’s mere minutes before children start filing into the classroom, shrieking and chattering and having far too much energy for this early in the morning. One child, slightly smaller than the rest, lingers at the doorway. They’re wearing a striped sweater that looks a bit too big for them. Mrs. Anderson catches your gaze and tilts her head towards the door. That must be your charge.

The child furiously signs at someone on the other side of the door and is met with a low chuckle. From where you’re standing, you can’t see who they’re talking to, but you assume it’s whoever’s dropping them off for their first day. 

“don’t worry, kid. they said they got you somebody that can sign,” the owner of the chuckle says. 

The child sighs and turns as if they can feel your presence. They stare at you for a long moment, maybe a moment too long, before seeming to come back to reality and signing.

*” _ My name is Frisk. Are you my helper? _ ”

You smile and sign back an affirmation and your name. They smile back at you, then turn to the door and sign something quickly. You manage to pick out *” _ I’m fine, you can go home _ ”. There’s another chuckle, and Frisk waves before coming into the classroom and finding the desk with their nametag on it. You close the door and take your place at the front of the classroom, where you’ll be spending most of your time. Mrs. Anderson clears her throat.

“Good morning, class,” she says sweetly. She immediately has the attention of the whole room, and chirps of good mornings sound out. “Today we’ll be welcoming two new members of the classroom.”

She looks over to you, waiting for you to introduce yourself.

“Good morning!” you say, as well as sign. “My name is Miss _____. I’m the new classroom helper.” 

“What’s that funny thing you’re doing with your hands?” one boy calls out. “Are you pretending to be Naruto?”

You try not to snort at the reference. “No, this is called sign language. Sometimes there’s people who can’t hear anything, but they can learn to talk with their hands. I learned how to do it, too, so I can help them better understand the world around them.”

Frisk looks a little nervous. 

“Our other new friend,” Mrs. Anderson goes on, “Is named Frisk. Frisk, why don’t you stand up and wave hello?”

It takes a moment for you to finish translating the request, but Frisk eventually stands and waves as they’re asked, but you can see them tremble slightly. Poor thing.

“Everyone, please be nice and show both of them how great our school is.” Frisk sits back down and focuses on the top of their desk. Some of the kids start to chatter a little about them. “NOW.” Mrs. Anderson’s voice is stern, and several kids jump. “Who knows what the date is today?”

* * *

The morning passes by much quicker than you anticipated. Frisk calms down as the eyes are no longer focused on them. It’s lunch time, and you help to usher the children to the cafeteria, making up the last in the single file line led by Mrs. Anderson. 

They’re akin to ducklings, you think.

Frisk tells you not to worry about sitting with them at the lunch table, so you sit with Mrs. Anderson in the teacher’s lounge. The window overlooks part of the playground, so you look out the window while you absently eat what you brought with you. 

“From what I’ve heard,” Mrs. Anderson starts, drawing your attention, “you’ll only be meeting two of the guardians today. I got a call from the office while you were helping with science.” 

“Only two?”

“One of them is a very busy man,” she tells you. “He has some very important work that came up. I’m sure you’ll get a chance to meet him sooner or later.” 

You nod, offer a thoughtful hum, and look back out the window. On the pavement, you see Frisk and a few other kids, seeming to play together. 

Oh. That’s not playing. One of the kids throwing a basketball full-force at the back of Frisk’s head is definitely  _ not _ playing. Frisk clutches at their head, and you know from experience how badly a basketball can hurt. You stand quickly and make for the door. You hear Mrs. Anderson get up as well. 

Within seconds, you’ve gotten out of the building much faster than you’d expect from yourself and are peeling children off of Frisk, who is sobbing on the ground. Where the hell are the supervisors?! Isn’t it their job to keep this kind of thing from happening? One kid manages to land a kick to Frisk’s ribs before he’s pulled away. 

“What in the  _ world _ do you think you’re doing?!” you yell, helping Frisk to their feet. They cling to you and hide their face in your stomach.

“Tell it that it’s broken. Tell it that no one wants to play with a broken toy,” the kicking boy spits. He seems rather proud of himself. 

You’re beyond shocked, and you’re about ready to lose it on this kid when you hear Mrs. Anderson’s distinct throat clearing. 

“All of you, with me,  _ now _ ,” she growls. “You ought to be absolutely ashamed of yourselves.” 

She barely looks at you as she points to the building, and the offending children listen to her without any hint of argument, leaving you with a very disheveled Frisk. You peel them away gently and kneel so that you can look them in the eye. They meet your gaze and sign with shaky hands. 

*” _ I can read lips. I’m not stupid. It hurts when people say stuff like that. _ ”

You nod and reply, “ _ Are you okay? _ ”

They shake their head, but their crying slows until they’re finally done. You wipe their tears with the soft sleeve of your jacket. 

*” _ Thank you, _ ” they sign, “ _ but you didn’t have to help. He would have dunked on them. _ ”

He? “ _ Who would have dunked on them? _ ”

Frisk points to a tight cluster of trees at the edge of the pavement. Nestled in the darkness, you can see a bright blue glow, if only faintly. There’s a fizz in the air that you hadn’t noticed before. It feels the same way that soda feels in your throat when you drink it too fast. Your contact with monsters has been limited up to this point, but you recognize magic when you feel it. You stand and smile at Frisk as confidently as you can, signing your response as well as saying it loud enough for whatever is hiding in the dark to hear you.

“Well, he doesn’t need to worry about dunking on anyone, because I’m going to protect you, okay?”

Frisk nods vigorously, waving at the darkness. They seem satisfied. They take your hand as the bell signaling the end of recess sounds off. 

As you walk together back to the building, the chuckle from earlier seems to echo around in the back of your mind, followed by two words spoken in a low, menacing voice right at the forefront of your thoughts. 

“you’d better.” 

* * *

*” _ Don’t worry so much! My guardians are super nice. Plus you already met one of them! Kinda. _ ”

That’s what worries you. You tap nervously on your desk. Mrs. Anderson has already left for the day after wishing you luck with your meeting. You’re a whole ass adult, you can do this. You have two rolling chairs pulled up at the other side of your desk and Frisk perched on top of the desk itself, swinging their legs and trying to offer moral support. 

You had an idea just looking at their names. You know that magic means monsters. It’s been almost a year since monsterkind surfaced, and only a couple of months since they’ve been fully integrated into society. They’re everywhere now. For all you know, that blue flame-like whatever it was that you saw could belong to some kind of elemental, which you know exists. There’s one that runs a bar downtown that your closest friends frequent. You don’t have a problem with monsters - it’s actually quite the opposite - but meeting new people is nerve wracking as it is, and you haven’t had too many interactions with monsters. What if you say something wrong and accidentally offend them? What’s okay and what isn’t? 

“Um, hello?”

You look up and almost immediately stand. A large white goat woman is standing before you, wearing a purple dress with some kind of insignia on it, smiling kindly at you. Next to her is a skeleton in a blue parka and basketball shorts, who is probably around the same height as you. He has a lazy, knowing grin spread across his face. 

Something about him strikes you as familiar. You must have seen him on the street one time or another. 

“O-oh! I’m sorry, hello!” You hold out a hand, which is immediately taken between two large, soft, warm paws. “Hi, I’m _____, Frisk’s translator. You two must be…?”

Both monsters. They’re both monsters.

“I am Toriel, Frisk’s adoptive mother,” the large goat woman tells you. Just her presence is slowly calming you down. “This is Sans, their guardian in case of emergency.”

“hey.” 

That’s what Frisk meant by you meeting one of them kind of. That’s the voice from your head, the voice from this morning. 

“Please, sit down,” you say as your hands are returned to you. Toriel pushes up the arms on her chair so that she can fit, and balances Frisk on her lap as she does. You wait for Sans to sit before you do as well. 

You decide it would be in your best interest to sign everything you say. Frisk would want to know what’s going on.

“I’m really glad you could make it on such short notice,” you say, launching into what meager speech you prepared in your head over the course of the day. “I’m really looking forward to working with Frisk. I can already tell they’re so bright and kind. I want you to know that they’ll be safe here with--”

“you know,” Sans cuts in, and for a split second you swear you can see one of his eye sockets glow blue, “i hope you stick to your word, because if frisk gets kicked by another kid…”

“Frisk got hurt?!” Toriel gasps.

*” _ I’m fine!” _ Frisk signs quickly.

“Yes, that’s something I wanted to talk about, too,” you say calmly. “Some of the kids were having a difficult time understanding Frisk’s deafness. They said some… unsavory things. Frisk got hit with a basketball and got a kick to the ribs, but that’s all I saw before I stepped in.” You try to ignore Sans’ expression. “They were all dealt with promptly and sent home, and won’t be back for a while,” you continue without breaking stride. “I took Frisk to the nurse to make sure they were okay. Just a little bump on the back of their head, but nothing serious. I’m going to pay very close attention to them from now on to make sure nothing like that ever happens again.”

Toriel visibly relaxes a bit. 

“Mrs. Anderson and I have no tolerance for bullying,” you conclude. “As long as we’re around, you don’t have to worry.”

You think you hear Sans say something about watching you, but something tells you to let it go out the other ear.

Toriel must hear it too, because she lightly swats his arm. “Please do not mind him,” she tells you. “I am sure that you are more than capable of protecting and teaching my child.” 

You smile at her, suddenly struck by an idea. “You know what? Here’s my cell number. You scribble it out on a piece of paper and hand it to her. “If you need anything or have any questions, or if there’s anything I can do to help smooth the transition into public school, don’t hesitate to contact me. I know things might be a bit hard on monster parents in this… school…” 

You trail off and offer a sheepish smile, thinking you might have overstepped a boundary. Toriel doesn’t seem phased in the slightest, but she reaches for your notepad and pen. She very neatly writes out two phone numbers and puts their names beside each one. 

“Please, put us in your contacts as well. We will be here to look out for you, too,” she says, and you can feel the sincerity. “We must be going. If there is nothing else…?”

“I think that covers everything,” you say. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Toriel tells you.

You say your goodbyes and see them out of the classroom. When you can’t see them in the hall anymore, you shut the classroom door, letting out a sigh of relief. That could have gone way worse. You add Toriel and Sans to your contacts, then write up a brief report on the meeting to stick in Frisk’s file. You lock up the file cabinet and get your belongings from the other cabinet. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. 

**Sans (4:18pm): thanks, kid. you’re ok.**

You can’t help but smile a little. This means he doesn’t hate you at least, right? You pocket your phone and head out, locking the classroom behind you. You make your way down to your car, tossing your belongings onto the passenger seat as you sit. 

Should you text him back? He texted you first, so it should be okay, right? As long as you keep it professional. You might as well. 

**You (4:21pm): I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t have to dunk on any third graders :P**

What happened to professional? The smiley with the tongue sticking out is  _ totally not professional _ . But you already hit send, so fuck it, right? There’s nothing you can do about it now. It’s already probably been delivered and seen and--

Your phone buzzes.

**Sans (4:22pm): thanks. wouldnt want to expend any extra energy. youre really lookin out for us :P**

He reciprocated the smiley, so it’s okay. It’s okay. You can stop panicking, you tell yourself. 

Deep breath in.

**You (4:23pm): It’s my job. Good to hear I’m doing it right.**

Exhale.

Everything’s okay. 

You stick the key in the ignition and start your car, making sure you roll down your windows a bit. It’s late March, so the air is still a bit crisp in the evening, but you don’t really mind that at all. It’s a nice contrast to the heated classroom.

The drive home is so clear it almost makes you sleepy. You park in your building’s parking garage and head up to your apartment. You set about your evening in your usual manner - take care of some stuff for university, make some spaghetti for dinner, and curl up on the couch with your black cat, Neo, to watch some television.

You opt for the cooking channel and settle in with a nice cup of tea. This new monster-run version of Chopped is really interesting to you. Wild that most monsters are vegetarians.

It’s been a good day, you think. 

Your phone buzzes a couple of times on the couch beside you, and you almost don’t want to take your hands off of your purring cat bundle to look at it. You do, though, after a minute.

**Sans (8:43pm): sorry to bug ya so late**

**Sans (8:43pm): frisk wanted me to say goodnight to you**

**Sans (8:44pm): from them, not me**

You feel yourself smiling. It’s a nice feeling.

**You (8:47pm): Goodnight, Sans.**

**You (8:47pm): Oh, and goodnight to Frisk, too.**

Satisfied, you turn your attention back to the TV. After a couple more hours, you decide it’s late enough to get to bed and try to get some sleep before the school day tomorrow. Once you’re in bed and the lights are off, you find yourself much sleepier than you thought you would be. Today really was exhausting. 

Your phone buzzes on your nightstand, and you manage to read the notification before you fall asleep.

**Sans (11:58pm): goodnight from me, too**

There’s a warm feeling in your chest as you fall asleep.

* * *

You were asked to head to the counselor’s office a few days later, even though you technically had the day off due to Frisk having a doctor’s appointment. You dragged yourself into work and hung out in the classroom all day grading quizzes and not much else. At lunch, you were told why you were there, and now you’re here, confused and concerned and kind of annoyed. 

The words that the counselor just said to you are appalling at best, and you’ve voiced just that. He shifts in his standing position and winces. 

“When the board read your report the other day, they got concerned about Frisk’s… living situation,” he tells you again, gently. “Look, we just want you to make a home visit to each guardian’s house and report on the conditions, just to ensure safety. It’s simple, and you’re--”

“ _ Pissed _ ,” you hiss, “but I’ll do it. If my report is good enough the board will stop making such a big deal about this, right?” 

“I’m sure they will.” He smiles sheepishly and adjusts his glasses. “Um, that’ll all I had to say. Please try to make arrangements today. You’re free to head home.” 

You see yourself from his office and stop in the hall, closing your eyes and rubbing your temples. You really don’t want to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, even if you are on good terms with the guardians of your charge already. You know it’s only a big deal because they’re monsters, and that shouldn’t matter. You’ve never met anyone as lovely as Toriel. 

It’s fine. Just call Sans. 

You hesitate, but eventually hit the call button when you’re sitting in your car. It rings once. Twice. Three then four times. You brace yourself for the voicemail.

“oh, shit. hello?” 

Your heart hits your stomach. “H-hi! Sans?”

“yeah.” 

“This is _____, from Frisk’s school?”

“yeah, i guessed. you’re in my contacts.”

Oh, right. 

“Okay. Um. So. I’ll be straight with you,” you start, your nerves starting to get to you. “The school board is, um. They caught wind of my report on our meeting since, you know, I have to submit one of those for transparency, and um. At lunch today, I was asked to go to the counselor’s office.” You pause and clear your throat. “I was told that, uh, since Frisk isn’t in today, he wants me to… I mean, the  _ school board _ wants me to conduct, um, home visits? Because they’re worried about Frisk’s ‘living conditions’, as he put it.”

Silence, but you do hear him sigh, so you know he’s there.

“I know you guys are perfectly capable guardians and they’re just being awful about monsters taking care of a human child and it’s total  _ bullshit _ , but I just  _ know _ that if I don’t they’ll want to call CPS and I am so  _ pissed _ about this and having to do it but I… and… I don’t want anything bad to happen to you guys.” 

There’s another sigh. “you just have to come over?”

“Yeah,” you say. “To any houses they spend a lot of time at.” 

“you just have to look around, take a few pictures, file a report?”

“I-I’m not a cop, I don’t need to take pictures.”

“ok.” 

“Um, when do you want to--” 

“now. i’ll call tori and tell her i’m bringing you over. you can investigate my place first.” He pauses. “and, uh, thanks. for stickin’ your neck our for us.” 

He hangs up immediately, and it takes you a second to register his words and put your phone down. Your phone does go off, and he’s texted you an address. You punch it into your gps and turn up the radio a little as you drive out of the parking lot.

His apartment turns out to be pretty close to yours, a nice part of town filled with college students and young newlyweds. You find a spot in guest parking and head in, stopping at reception to ask how to get to the specified apartment. She sends you up to the fourth floor, and you take your dear sweet time finding the right apartment before knocking on the door.

You hear shuffling getting closer, then a voice.

“who’s there?”

“Um, _____, from the elementary school.”

“um _____ from the elementary school who?”

You open your mouth to respond, but then realize what’s going on. The door opens when you’re silent for a couple of minutes, and Sans is grinning at you, thoroughly amused. 

“you’re supposed to give the punchline,” he tells you.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, trying to sound stern but your voice betrayed by the smile on your face. He’s so pleased with himself. “May I come in?”

“yeah.” he walks in, and you take that as a cue to follow. You shut the door behind you.

You’re a bit anxious going in, but the ambience of the room calms you right down. It’s warm and homey in here, cozy. You could sit on that well-worn couch and just melt. It’s simply decorated - couch, TV, a table against one wall that houses a rock covered in rainbow sprinkles. That bit is a little funny to you, but you choose not to comment. What they feed their pet rock is up to them. 

It’s clean and organized and a totally normal apartment. You wouldn’t even guess that it belonged to a monster. 

“wait here a sec,” Sans tells you, then walks down a hallway. 

You kind of look around a bit, admiring a painting of a bone hanging on the wall.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME SOONER THAT WE WOULD HAVE COMPANY?! THERE’S NO TIME TO COOK SPAGHETTI NOW!”

You wince at the volume of the new voice, one that’s reminiscent of a villain from a show you used to watch. You’re not entirely surprised when another skeleton emerges with Sans a few paces behind him. This one is significantly taller than the both of you, and looks a mix between alarmed and excited.

“WELCOME TO OUR HOME, HUMAN!” he greets you. “I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS. IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU.”

You shake his outstretched hand, unsure how to prepare yourself for skin-to-bone contact. Luckily he’s wearing gloves. You introduce yourself. 

“I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU ARE LUCKY I HAD A DAY OFF FROM WORK TODAY. NYEH!” He looks extremely pleased, gazing at you with a weird twinkle in his eye sockets. “COME, LET ME SHOW YOU AROUND MY APARTMENT THAT IS ALSO MY BROTHER’S.”

Papyrus takes your shoulders and spins you around so you’re facing the living room again.

“THIS IS OUR LIVING ROOM, WHERE WE WATCH METTATON AND SOMETIMES HUMAN TELEVISION SHOWS. OVER THERE IS SANS’ PET ROCK THAT HE DOESN’T TAKE CARE OF AND I ALWAYS FEED.” He shoots a chastising glance at his brother. “HONESTLY, I DON’T KNOW WHAT SANS WOULD DO WITHOUT ME.”

“i dunno either, bro,” Sans replies quietly. He sounds happy, though.

You’re pushed not even a few feet away into the kitchen, which is separated from the living room by a wall and an archway.

“THIS IS THE KITCHEN, WHERE I COOK MY WORLD FAMOUS SPAGHETTI,” he continues. “SOMETIMES SANS MAKES FOOD, BUT I AM THE PRIMARY CHEF OF THE HOUSEHOLD.”

Papyrus gasps,spinning you once more to look deep into your eyes. His hands are on your shoulders and his face reads determination.

“I WILL MAKE YOU ONE OF MY FAMOUS SPAGHETTI DINNERS SO THAT MAYBE MY COOKING WILL IMPRESS YOU ENOUGH THAT YOU WON’T TAKE FRISK AWAY.”

You stare at him for a long moment. Even Sans isn’t sure what to say. He’s… completely serious, isn’t he?

“I’m not here to take Frisk from you guys,” you say softly, kindly, as if you’re calming a frustrated child. “I’m here to make sure that Frisk gets to stay with you and everyone that loves them, because they’re happy and safe here. I want you all to stay together.”

Somehow this skeleton is far more expressive than you ever would have imagined one could be. There’s actual stars in his eye sockets. “YOU MEAN THAT, HUMAN?”

“Of course I do.”

“and, uh, bro, we can impress her with spaghetti another night,” Sans adds. “we’re going to tori’s after this.”

Papyrus is silent for a long moment. When he speaks, it’s abrupt and startles you. “COME THEN, HUMAN! I WILL SHOW YOU MY ROOM WHICH IS WHERE FRISK SLEEPS WHEN THEY ARE HERE.”

You follow Papyrus, Sans close behind you. His room is much different than you would have expected.

A red race car bed is pushed into one corner, and a regular wood-framed bed is on the other end of the same wall. A large dresser between them is almost entirely covered in robot figurines. The room also houses a computer desk and tons of drawings haphazardly hung on the wall. 

“THIS IS MY BEDROOM. I SHARE IT WITH FRISK SOMETIMES, USUALLY ON THE WEEKENDS,” Papyrus tells you. “THE WALLS SERVE AS FRISK’S ART GALLERY.”

“It’s wonderful,” you tell him, looking around. Sans doesn’t go any further than the doorway. 

“THANK YOU, HUMAN! IT WAS HARD TO FIND A RACE CAR BED AS COOL AS THE ONE SANS MADE FOR ME IN OUR OLD HOME, SO HE WENT BACK UNDERGROUND TO BRING THIS ONE UP FOR ME.”

“Oh?” You examine a couple of the drawings. One is clearly of Frisk, Sans, and Papyrus. There’s another that catches your eye, but it’s just an odd face inside of an otherwise mainly black background. Kids have wild imaginations.

“YES. MY BROTHER IS VERY GOOD AT MANIPULATING TIME AND SPACE…”

When you tune Papyrus’ speech out, you tell yourself it’s not on purpose. You’re simply captivated by Frisk’s art. There’s one of Frisk and Toriel and another large white monster. Frisk and a fire elemental. Frisk and a fish woman and a little yellow dinosaur. Frisk and a golden flower with a smiley face in the center of the petals. Sans laying in the floor surrounded by what look kind of like ketchup bottles. Frisk with all sorts of different monsters. They have a ton of friends, you realize, all of whom they love very much.

“...HONESTLY, SANS IS MUCH COOLER THAN I, BUT DO NOT TELL HIM I SAID THAT. HE WILL ONLY BECOME LAZIER IF HE FINDS OUT.”

“Wow,” you murmur, still focused on the artworks. 

“IN AWE…?” Papyrus grabs your shoulders so that you face him again, and your attention snaps to his face. “NYEH HEH HEH! YOU ARE RIGHT, HUMAN! SANS IS VERY WORTHY OF YOUR AWE!”

“aw, shucks, bro,” Sans says from the doorway. He had gone unnoticed by his brother. “didn’t know ya thought of me that way.”

Papyrus freezes and turns to Sans, almost comically slow, releasing you as he does. Sans’s expression is the only one visible to you, and it’s a mix of affection and amusement. 

“I… YOU…” Papyrus clears his (lack of) throat. “NYEH! YOU HAVE BEEN THOROUGHLY JAPED BY THE GREAT PAPYRUS, BROTHER!” He pats Sans’ head. “YOU HAVE A LONG WAY TO GO BEFORE YOU ARE AS COOL AS I AM.” He moves to leave, Sans stepping out of the way to let him, but he stops, shouting a very quick “BUTYOUAREAVERYCLOSESECONDOKAYGOODBYE!” before running.

Sans’ grin has fallen, and a light blue flush finds its way across his face. 

“my brother really is the coolest, huh?” He turns back to you with a lazy grin. “well? you satisfied, or d’ya wanna see my room, too?” He punctuates his question with a slow wink.

You huff in amusement and shake your head. “No, no, this is more than okay. Totally satisfying. Frisk must have tons of fun here.”

“uh, yeah.” He scuffs his pink slipper on the floor, then pulls his phone from his hoodie pocket. “tori says she and frisk just got home. let’s head over.”

“Alright,” you say. “I’m ready whenever.”

You both walk back to the living room, where Papyrus is waiting impatiently. 

“HUMAN! YOU WERE SO IMPRESSED BY MY AWESOME AND VERY COOL BED THAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE DECIDED THAT YOU WOULD BENEFIT FROM THE EXPERIENCE OF GOING TO TORIEL’S HOUSE IN MY VERY REAL AND MUCH COOLER ACTUAL CAR,” he announces. “NOW IS THE TIME TO BE THOROUGHLY THANKFUL THAT YOU HAVE BEFRIENDED THE GREAT PAPYRUS.”

“You really are the coolest, Papyrus,” you praise. 

He lets out a very satisfied “NYEH!” and leads you from the apartment.

“Oh, but Papyrus?” you continue. “I drove over here. My apartment is only a few blocks down, and--”

“LET US DROP OFF YOUR CAR AT YOUR HOUSE AND THEN WE WILL USE MY CAR,” he says. “I WILL BRING YOU HOME, OF COURSE.”

You were just going to suggest that you follow them to Toriel’s, but this works too, you guess.

Papyrus eyes your little silver four-door when you get down to the parking garage and you’ve unlocked it, then clambers into the red sports car parked nearby. It really suits him.

“I CAN SEE WHY YOU WOULD RATHER BE SEEN IN MY CAR,” he says loudly enough for you to hear. 

“I like my car!” you shout back, but it’s all playful. You don’t take Papyrus as the type to say something to be outright hurtful.

You wait until you see Sans get into his brother’s car before you pull out of your spot. You check to make sure they’re behind you and set off for home. The drive only takes about five minutes, and you find yourself laughing a little at the coincidence of it. You pull into your reserved spot and lock your car as you hop out. Papyrus is parked right behind you, waiting for you to get in. Sans starts to move, but you shake your head. 

“I don’t mind being in the back,” you tell him, and he shrugs. You get yourself into the back and barely get buckled before Papyrus peels out of the parking garage. 

As you go, you find yourself getting further and further from the city’s center. This is almost suburb territory now. Before long, Papyrus pulls into a neighborhood with some of the nicer houses in the area. The car parks in front of one with a rather large, fenced-in backyard. Sans steps out and walks up to the house without bothering to wait for either of you, entering the house without so much as a knock and leaving the door open. You and Papyrus go in together, and you make sure to take your shoes off at the door.

It smells  _ amazing _ in here. The floors are all wooden, and more of Frisk’s art is framed on the walls. As you go further inside, you can see the living room, as well as the large portrait hanging front and center on the back wall above the television set. Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, and Frisk are all depicted, as well as the other goat monster, the fish lady, and the little yellow dinosaur you had seen in Frisk’s drawings. 

You look to your right and see Toriel in the kitchen, her back towards you, complete with an apron and oven mitts. It’s absolutely the most wholesome thing you think you’ve ever seen. She turns and smiles warmly at you.

“I did not hear you enter, my child,” she says as you come closer to her. “Welcome to our home. Please treat it as if it is your own.” She turns to pull something from the oven. Out comes a steaming pie, which she places on a cooling rack. It’s definitely the source of the smell that hit you at the front door. “Dinner will be finished soon, and Asgore will be home shortly. Ah, and Papyrus?” The skeleton straightens up. “Will you run upstairs and fetch Frisk?”

With a loud “NYEH!”, Papyrus sprints up the stairs. You settle in a bit by hanging your jacket on one of the kitchen chairs. 

“I feel like I should know this,” you venture, “but who is Asgore?”

Sans gives you a look like yeah, you  _ should _ know this, but he doesn’t say anything. Strange how you pick up on that thought without him saying a word.

“He is my… husband,” Toriel says, a bit apprehensively. 

Did you strike a nerve?

Her warm smile returns as quickly as it left her. “Do not worry. He and I are just mending our relationship after… a rocky patch. Quite the rocky patch.”

Sans mutters something incoherently, not that you’d be able to hear him over Papyrus pretty much galloping back into the kitchen, Frisk running behind him. Frisk comes up to you with a grin, holding up a potted golden flower.

...that has a face?

It hisses at you. “Who the hell is this?”

“FRISK’S TRANSLATOR FRIEND. WE WENT OVER THIS,” Papyrus supplies, sounding exasperated. “THIS IS FRISK’S PET FLOWER, FLOWEY.”

“Howdy!” Flowey says, sounding cheerful.

“Howdy!” another voice echoes from the doorway, also cheerful but so much deeper and filled with kindness. “I see we have a guest tonight.”

You turn to greet this new person.

This new giant white goat man monster in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts. 

“Hello,” you say, summoning all of your professional courage. “You must be Asgore.” 

He takes your outstretched hand in both of his large paws, much like Toriel did, though they’re much larger than hers and encompass a good portion of your forearm. “Indeed,” he says. “You must be Frisk’s translator. What brings you here?”

“SHE IS MAKING SURE THAT FRISK DOES NOT GET TAKEN AWAY,” Papyrus says matter-of-factly. 

Asgore stares at you incredulously for a moment, then laughs a deep, hearty laugh. “Oh my!” he exclaims. “Are we cause that much of an uproar? I apologize for the inconvenience!”

“Dinner is ready!” Toriel calls. 

“My dear human, have you been offered tea?” Asgore continues, almost excitedly. “I have this great one that I--”

“ _ Asgore, _ ” Toriel calls sternly. He freezes, then lets out a slightly nervous chuckle. 

“Please excuse me,” he says. “I should go help my wife.”

Frisk takes your hand and leads you to the kitchen table, sitting you in the middle on one side of it. They sit to your right, and Sans sits to your left. They place Flowey in the center of the table like a decoration. 

“HUMAN, DO YOU LIKE SPAGHETTI?” Papyrus asks. You open your mouth to reply. “TRICK QUESTION! WHO  _ DOESN’T _ LIKE SPAGHETTI?”

Okay, you don’t need to answer. That’s totally okay. You don’t mind spaghetti, so that’s fine. He puts a plate in front of you, and you just kind of stare at the amount of spaghetti on top of it. There’s no way you could eat this all in one sitting, even if you had your two hungriest friends with you. 

“Papyrus, dear, she will never be able to eat all of that,” Toriel says, and you’re a bit relieved.

“NONSENSE! FRISK WANTED TO SHARE!”

Sans chuckles, like he knows something. 

Frisk pulls an extra long noodle from the plate, putting one end in their mouth and holding the other out to you. Everyone else sits down. The child waggles their eyebrows at you.

“Are you…” You bite back a laugh. Oh no. This is too cute. “Frisk,” you continue, signing along, “are you hitting on me?”

Silence. More brow waggles. 

You laugh a little and ruffle their hair, shaking your head. They seem to take the hint and huff, pulling half of the mountain of spaghetti onto their own waiting plate. 

“Frisk, I told you not to flirt with our guests,” Toriel scolds.

Frisk shrugs and puts as much spaghetti in their mouth as they can fit. Everyone else starts eating, and occasionally someone gives Flowey a meatball. You brace yourself for something weird to happen with your first bite, like the crackle of magic or--

Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s normal spaghetti. The meatball tastes like it’s plant-based, though.

“expecting something magical?” Sans teases, poking at a meatball. You shrug, and he gives you a slow wink. 

“I was prepared for the possibility,” you admit.

He finally spears his meatball after a painfully long moment of pushing it around and leans across you to offer it to Flowey. He smells like ketchup and cologne.

Dinner passes with friendly conversation. You explain to Toriel and Asgore why you’re conducting home visits, and they’re very understanding. She explains a bit about monster eating habits and that not all monsters need to eat magic-infused meals all the time. It’s all dependant on what type of monster they are, and how healthy they are. She tells you skeleton monsters like Sans and Papyrus always need it to be magically infused because they don’t have digestive systems. You add that to your very tiny collection of knowledge about monsters. It’s interesting to you.

Before you know it, dinner is over, and Toriel is cleaning the table. You stand and pick up some of the empty plates as well.

“Ah, you do not need to help,” she says. “You are a guest.” 

“It’s the least I can do,” you tell her, following her to the kitchen. She smiles at you and hands you a towel.

“Well, then you dry.” 

She puts on a pair of giant rubber gloves and gets the sink running. You wonder if she’s ever clogged the sink with her fur before. You can’t imagine that she hasn’t. Soon she’s washing and handing you plates, which you dry thoroughly and place in neat stacks on the counter. You get to thinking, shaking your head at yourself. 

“Is something the matter?” she asks you, quietly enough that this is a private conversation. There’s more chatter at the dinner table, so you’re not worried about anyone overhearing.

“It’s just that… I was sent to do something kind of awful, you know? I’m questioning your lifestyle and parenting ability just because the school told me to, and it’s terrible. But here we are, washing dishes together, and you’ve done nothing but treat me like an old friend.” You focus on drying the next plate. “I almost feel like I’m being… overly friendly.”

“Oh my… Overly friendly?” She actually laughs, lifting the tension from the air with the light, rhythmic noise. “Oh no, my child, you are the perfect amount of friendly. Do not worry so. You have been a great help to us in such a short amount of time already, and I am truly thankful.” 

You murmur your thanks and look to the floor, slightly embarrassed. 

“You must stay for pie,” she tells you as the last of the dishes are dried and put away. 

You’re absolutely stuffed. “I don’t think I could manage,” you admit. “Thank you, though.”

“we gotta head out soon anyways,” Sans says from right beside you. You jump. When did he end up there?! “we’re the ride home.”

“Then you will take some home,” she tells you. It’s not a question. She begins cutting slices of pie. She packs two slices into a container and hands it to you. “Please visit us again soon,” she says sweetly, “and do make sure it is not ‘official business’ next time.”

“Please do!” Asgore calls from the table. 

You say your goodbyes to everyone, and you get into the back of Papyrus’ car once again. The ride home is quiet, peaceful. You feel pretty good about the way that the day went. You just need to write up a report while the experience is fresh in your mind and submit it first thing in the morning. Papyrus pulls into the empty space reserved for your apartment, right next to your car.

“you, uh, want me to walk you up?” Sans asks, but it’s obvious he’s only asking because he knows he should.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “And, um. Don’t worry about the school. I’ll make sure it’s all taken care of.”

Sans looks like he wants to say something else as you get out of the car, but Papyrus speaks instead.

“FRISK HUGGED YOU VERY HARD BEFORE WE LEFT, HUMAN. THEY LIKE YOU VERY MUCH. YOU WILL HAVE TO COME OVER SO I CAN MAKE YOU SPAGHETTI.”

“I’d like that,” you tell him. “I’ll come by sometime.”

Sans looks pleased, and Papyrus launches into a long winded speech about how great it will be when you come over and eat with them. You can’t help but smile a little. 

It’s a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo babies new and old welcome to the shitshow: reloaded
> 
> at long last I have brought you an amalgamation of the first two chapters of fwtst. i did decide that some chapters, especially in the beginning, will be combined and condensed or expanded as i see fit. there will be quite a few differences from the main fic, most of which will become more prevalent as the story goes on. 
> 
> thank you to everyone, all of my returning readers and all new readers alike, for stopping by to read! i hope all of my sin children are ready for another fun ride c:
> 
> don't forget that i'm on tumblr and twitter both @meekomyachi, feel free to come scream at me 
> 
> also also any of my returning readers will know that i can't ever stick to a schedule, so i can't make any update promises. it could be tomorrow, it could be next month. who knows? i dont.
> 
> also also also very important!! but please take care of your health and be sure to hang out at home as much as you can right now. the world is scary and i hope all of you and your families and loved ones are safe and healthy and okay. wash your hands!!


	2. Field Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Undyne,” the monster says. Her presence is almost intimidating. She holds out one hand, her yellow eye assessing you. You move to shake it.  
> “My name is--”  
> “ERGH, I know who you are!” she interrupts. She grabs your hand and shakes it roughly. “Papyrus doesn’t shut up about you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is it really me if there's not a 12 year wait between chapters

Your alarm finally manages to wake you up after the third snooze. Barely. You roll out of bed and pull the blankets up in a half assed attempt at making it. It’s good enough for now. You glance at the time on your phone one more time, thankful you always set the alarm early, and walk out to the kitchen. 

A loud meow tells you that Neo is awake and most likely convinced that he’s starving to death. He’s sitting at the cabinet that holds his food, looking up at you with huge eyes. You put enough food in the bowl to cover the very small spot where you can see the bottom and set your coffee maker to brew half a pot. The sound of cat food crunching and quiet machine humming fill the room.

You leave long enough to take a quick shower, get dressed, and otherwise get ready for your day. You remember to opt for nothing more fancy than a basic t-shirt and some jeans. It’s career day, after all, and you were told that the afternoon is spent outside supervising the kids while they do some fun activities. 

You drink a quick mug of coffee and get the rest in your thermos. With your sneakers on and your belongings gathered, you’re ready to head out. Don’t forget to lock the door behind you.

A look at your phone tells you that you’re leaving barely on time (to be early, that is), and that Sans had texted you at some point, saying to have fun at work today. You send back a quick thanks as you rush down to your car. You smile a little. That’s sweet of him. You’re sure it’ll be plenty of fun. Maybe one of the kids’ parents will have an actually cool occupation.

You wonder who Frisk will bring. Maybe Sans? Papyrus would be cool, of course. The idea makes today seem a little less tedious, a little more fun. The twenty minute drive from your apartment to the school is nice and easy, hardly any traffic, and no trouble finding a parking spot. You check in at the office and go up to your classroom, setting up and making sure that everything is neat and tidy. 

Mrs. Anderson comes in, looking a little bit worse for wear, which you’ve learned over the last few weeks is very unlike her. 

“Good morning,” you greet her. She stares at you for a moment, as if she’s trying to register your presence, then smiles at you.

“Hello, dear,” she replies. “I’m alright, don’t worry. I’m just not looking forward to today.” She sighs as she sits at her desk and locks her bag in one of the drawers. “Not too many years ago, I would have been running amok with the children all afternoon, but now, I’m just so… _old_.” 

There’s a mischievous glint in her eye that tells you she’s trying to get you to comment on her age. Ignoring the bait, you offer a similar expression to hers and put one foot up on your desk, showing off your admittedly pretty cool sneakers. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll run in your stead.” 

She laughs, finally pulled from her worry, and wakes one hand in a dismissive fashion. “Put your foot down, I hear parents.” 

The moment your foot touches the ground, children start filing in with their parents. You notice at the back of the pack is Frisk, accompanied ny a monster you vaguely recognize from their drawings. A tall, blue fish woman with an eyepatch, red hair, and an outfit centered around her leather jacket. Frisk catches sight of you and grabs hold on the monster’s hand, making their way towards you. 

“Hello!” you say, sure to sign along. 

*” _This is my best friend!_ ” You can see the pride on Frisk’s face. 

“Undyne,” the monster says. Her presence is almost intimidating. She holds out one hand, her yellow eye assessing you. You move to shake it. 

“My name is--”

“ERGH, I know who you are!” she interrupts. She grabs your hand and shakes it roughly. “Papyrus doesn’t shut _up_ about you.” 

You smile a little, thinking about the daily encouraging texts he’s sent you since you met. 

“I-it’s nice to meet you,” you manage. 

“Yeah, you too.” She drops your hand and looks quickly around the room before back to you. “Hey… Everyone’s gonna be cool today, right?” Her voice is much lower, much more serious.

You nod, realizing her worry. “If anything happens, I’ll take care of it.”

That earns you a very large, very toothy, _very_ sharp grin. “Sans said you were a good kid,” she tells you. 

You can feel your cheeks start to burn at the compliment, and you look past her in hopes that class is about to start. Mrs. Anderson catches your eye and motions for you to join her at the front of the room, giving you room to politely bow out of the conversation. You sign to Frisk to tell them to take their seat and take your place beside the white board. 

“Good morning,” Mrs. Anderson starts, her voice commanding silence and attention from the entire room. “Before we start our day, there’s one little thing I’d like to say. Today is a day of learning and tolerance, and I expect everyone, especially the adults, to show the respect they would expect to receive. Be an example to the children, please, and leave anything unkind unsaid. Am I clear?” 

There’s a general sound of agreement from the room, and you try to ignore the way some of the parents are looking in Undyne’s direction. 

“On that note,” she goes on, “I would like everyone to be aware and respectful of the fact that there is a deaf child in our class.” You watch Undyne toss an irritated glance at the parent to her left, who had let out an annoyed sound at the idea. How it affects him personally is beyond you. “Let’s start our morning like normal, and then we can get right into the parent presentations. It looks like we have quite a few to get through.” 

Attendance goes by quickly, the date and schedule are gone over, and kids immediately start volunteering their parents to speak. As expected, it takes all morning. You sign along to the rather boring tales of police officers and receptionists and the occasional doctor or nurse. Eventually, Frisk and Undyne are the only pair left. You sign to them that it’s their turn and move next to the door where you can watch. If you don’t have to translate, you might as well take a moment to enjoy whatever Undyne is going to bring to the table. 

Frisk takes Undyne’s hand and leads her to the front of the room. You give Undyne a thumbs up when she looks over at you. 

“My name is Undyne,” she starts slowly, “and I’m one of the people who take care of Frisk. Back Underground, I was captain of the Royal Guard--” 

“We all know monsters work security,” one parent (you’re pretty sure he’s a bank teller) mutters to the nurse beside him, just loud enough that you can make out the scorn in his voice. 

“You’re right, I do work security,” Undyne says, eyes piercing the man, but the energy you feel coming from her is far from aggressive. “But I’m not just a bouncer or a mall cop or anything. I’m something _way_ cooler.” 

There’s a ciscious glint in her eye, and you can feel her growing more and more pumped up. She’s got everyone’s attention now. 

“I’m a bounty hunter.” 

She pauses to listen to the children’s excited chatter. She flexes, her whole body practically vibrating. 

“THAT’S RIGHT! If some bad guy doesn’t come to court, or skips out on their bail, I’M the one they have to answer to!” Her volume is steadily increasing, and you have to motion for her to take it down a notch. Luckily she catches the hint. “I bring them in to court so justice can be served! It’s actually a lot like my job in the Underground.” 

“Do you have a gun?!” one kid shouts. You sign the question for Frisk, who does nothing but smile at you.

“Well, _yeah_ , but I never use it. I have something much cooler, something only I can use.” 

“As long as no one touches it and you are safe, I don’t see why we shouldn’t see,” Mrs. Anderson says. She seems pretty interested. 

Undyne grins as she reaches out and clenches her fist around a bright blue spear. You can feel the fizz of magic in the air, something that’s hard to explain but you can somehow recognize it. Cue more delighted gasps and chatter.

“I can create spears like this.” There’s pride in her voice. “I can make hundreds at once. Maybe thousands! I’ve never actually counted, but…” She opens her fist and lets the spear fade away. “Just imagine! No bad guy would think they could run away from me! I always win!” 

There’s some applause, mostly children, some parents, but you do notice a lot of dirty looks being thrown her way. Hopefully you don’t have to clean up any mess later. The lunch bell rings, and Mrs. Anderson claps her hands. 

“Go ahead to the cafeteria,” she says, commanding attention back. “Feel free to stay in the classroom to eat if you’d like. Any parents staying for field day, please be back here after lunch.” 

The class disperses, the line following Mrs. Anderson from the room less than orderly. Frisk taps your arm. 

*” _Are you staying here?_ ” 

You nod. They go back to their desk and sign something to Undyne before pulling our their lunch bag. You linger near the door. They’re the only two staying. 

“You gonna come and sit or what, nerd?” Undyne asks, looking up from her own lunch. Her tone comes off hostile, but you can tell by her face that she’s being anything but. 

“Yeah,” you say. You get your bag and phone from the cabinet and join them, entirely aware of the fact that you’re being stared at. 

“Papyrus says you’re his new best friend,” she says.

“He’s been texting me every day since we met,” you admit. “It’s pretty cute.” 

You sense danger in the large grin forming on her face. “You know, with the way you blushed earlier, you’d think that _Sans_ is the one you think is--” 

“I blushed at the compliment,” you say hotly. “I thought he hated me or something, so it was a surprise more than anything. Honestly. Papyrus keeps inviting me over for dinner, but then tells me that Sans asks to reschedule.”

Undyne’s grin grows, and her one visible eye narrows at you. “So quick to defend yourself.” 

You maintain eye contact as you take a bite of what you brought with you. Frisk signs something at Undyne that you can’t make out because of where they’re sitting, but Undyne very obviously sees, what with how she barks out a laugh and slams her hand down on the table. 

“I ship it, too,” she growls. 

“SO.” You’re ready to change the subject. “What was it like being captain of the Royal Guard?” 

“I would capture humans and take them to our king,” she tells you. “It was always so easy! At least until this little jerk came along.” She ruffles Frisk’s hair. 

There must be a question on your face, because she snorts. 

“You not watch the news? Asgore is our king. Toriel is the queen. If we had gotten one more human soul, we could have gotten out of the Underground. Frisk would have been the seventh.” She takes a breath, and her face contorts into a fond smile. “But they made friends with Papyrus and Sans. And literally everyone else. They found a way to get us all out without hurting anyone. They’re the monster ambassador now.” 

“Seventh soul?”

“You get souls by killing people.” 

Frisk waves to get your attention. *” _All of my friends have tried to kill me. Even mom._ ”

You sputter, entirely disbelieving. What a heavy thing for a third grader to say so nonchalantly. All of these monsters you’ve met make it very clear that they love Frisk more than anything have actually tried to kill them? Papyrus you can’t see hurting anyone or anything ever, and Sans… seems like he’d be too lazy to do that. 

But then again, he had been ready to dunk on some third graders not that long ago. 

You waste time talking to Undyne about anything and everything, thankful that she seems to like you. Time seems to go quickly because before you know it, there’s kids coming back into the room, a few parents following suit. Some must have been lucky enough to be able to take the full day off from work. Mrs. Anderson returns as well, sitting at her desk and looking to you as you stand. You put you belongings away and go to the front of the room, taking your spot in front of the whiteboard. There’s not much time before the children need to be taken outside, so you figure you might as well get the ball rolling. Poor Mrs. Anderson doesn’t seem to be up to it. 

“Okay everyone,” you say, surprised that your voice manages to pull the attention of the room. “For the rest of the afternoon, we’ll be outside for field day.” You catch a glimpse of Undyne vibrating in her seat. “We have our very basic rules that we have all the time: no pushing, no shoving, everyone be nice to each other. We’ll be playing fair or not at all. Okay?” 

There’s hurried, frantic nods from the students and parents alike. Undyne gives you a thumbs up and a grin, both of which are mirrored by Frisk. 

“Everyone will get water bottles outside,” you go on, “and I heard that there’s gonna be a Nice Cream cart at the end where you can get a free popsicle, which is pretty cool.” Catch on to your own shitty pun after the fact. Accept your sins and move on. “Everyone line up at the door and we’ll head out.” 

You try to make sure the line of third graders is more or less together before you lead them downstairs and out of the building. You look over to the thicket of trees Sans had been in during your first encounter with him. Is he in there? Should you wave or something? That’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t be hanging out in somewhere so dark. Super dark for how sunny of a day it is. 

You decide not to think about it. 

There’s an obstacle course set up for the kids, which the gym teacher is waiting at the start of. As he explains to the children what to do, you translate for Frisk. Climb over the blue wall, hope across the wrestling mat of a pond via foam lily pads, walk across a balance beam that may as well be flush with the ground, and race through a line of tires by putting a foot in one at a time. 

Should be easy enough. 

You scan back over your group of kids to see Undyne with Frisk on her shoulders, her bouncing becoming more and more impatient as time goes on. You wonder if you should stop her now. She’s at least waiting for all the children to be done, including Frisk, who seems to be much more nimble than most of the rest of the class. Are the parents even supposed to do it? You decide it can’t hurt and stand back. 

She’s gone in a flash, vaulting over the wall with no problem and clearing the pond in a stride in a half. She sprints across the balance beam like it’s nothing, like it’s not even there, and doesn’t slow her pace when she gets to the tires. Knees up, only the tips of her toes touching the ground in the openings of the tires. She’s good, she’s almost halfway through, she’s--

Falling. 

Her boot catches on one of the tires and she falls face first into the ground. You rush over to help her up, though you can’t help but laugh a bit. It’s pretty hilarious. 

“Are you okay?” you ask her.

“Never better!” You’re rewarded with one of her grins as she stands up. “On to the next one!” 

The rest of the afternoon goes in much of the same way. There’s an egg on a spoon race in which she flings the egg towards the finish line in blatant disregard of the rules. With the water balloon toss, she throws their oversized balloon way too hard. Frisk manages to get out of the way, making it hit your chest instead. Thankfully you aren’t wearing white. The three-legged race is funny to watch, seeing as Undyne practically drags Frisk across the ground. The wheelbarrow race is a disaster. Frisk just can’t keep up with Undyne’s fast pace. The final challenge, where they have to fill a bucket with nothing but wet sponges, seems to be going fine. At least it does until Undyne gets impatient and throws one of the sponges, which is also dodged by Frisk and plops right on the leg of your jeans.

It’s all pretty funny, and you’re glad that Undyne is laughing about it, too. Before long all of the kids are getting cold treats from the Nice Cream cart. There’s a tall blue rabbit monster there, though when you get up he’s removing his illegible name tag. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, “but my shift is over. My replacement will be here any second.” 

As he walks away from the cart, there’s a concentrated burst of magic in the air, and the slightest breeze, like the air was displaced. You blink, and there’s Sans at the cart. 

“oh, hey,” he greets you. “didn’t know there was a water park here.” 

“Turns out Undyne and water don’t mix well,” you say. “Which is pretty funny considering she’s, you know. A fish.” 

“HEY,” Undyne protests, taking popsicles straight from the cart and handing one to Frisk. 

He looks amused. “sounds like field day didn’t go too _swimmingly_.” 

Undyne narrows her eye at him, a dangerous expression on her face. “Shut UP, Sans.” 

“you’re actin’ a little _fishy_ , undyne. is everything ok?”

“NGGAAAAHHHH! We’re leaving!” She takes Frisk’s hand and marches away, finding a tree to sit under. 

“didn’t know you liked puns,” Sans says as you try to stop yourself from laughing aloud. He hands you a popsicle. 

“I’ve been known to let one or two slip on occasion,” you say.

There’s silence for a moment while Sans tends to the rest of the children in line. He rests his chin on his palm and shifts the little lights in his eyes to look at you once they’re all gone. 

“it’ll melt,” he says, almost inaudibly. 

“What? Oh.” You look at the blue melting onto your fingers and bring it up to lick the mess away. You’ll have to wash your hands for sure. “When are you going to let Papyrus have me over? He says you keep saying no.” 

“uh. eventually.” 

“I’ll pretend that means sometime soon.” You smile at him. 

You take note that his gaze keeps flicking between your face and the popsicle in your hand. There’s got to be something going on in his head. You assume that, even if some of the components are different, he must understand _something_ about how humans work. 

“Something wrong?” you ask, venturing to smile. “You look kind of concerned.” 

“i--” There’s a light blue dusting across his cheekbones, and he pointedly looks away from you. “it’s melting.” 

“Oh, the popsicle? I thought it’d be rude to eat it while we’re having a conversation, but if you insist.” You lift it to your lips, watching as he takes another glance at you. 

You’re pretty sure you hear him swear under his breath as he looks away again. “not rude.” He starts closing up the cart. “i, uh. i’m gonna go. enjoy.” 

“Wait, you’re leaving?” You had wanted to tease him a little more, but the fact that what you can see of his face from the way he’s standing is flushed an almost navy color now tells you that you’ve somehow done enough already. 

“work’s over. i’ll, uh, see ya later.” You blink, and he’s gone, as well as the cart. 

You’re a little stupefied for a moment, blinking a few more times before you realize your popsicle is halfway melted and you haven’t actually eaten any of it. Ignore the embarrassment from making him uncomfortable and go hang out with Undyne and Frisk. All in all, it was a good day. You can freak out about what you did later, when you're safe at home.

* * *

The Nice Cream cart is returned, he’s home on the couch, and he’s playing the afternoon’s events over in his head. It went a little bit differently this time, but at the very least, it still happened. He tugs at the drawstrings on his hoodie, tightening the hood over his head. 

The door opens, Papyrus returning. “OH, BROTHER,” he says. “YOU’RE HOME EARLY. HOW WAS THE FESTIVAL AT THE SCHOOL?”

“fine.” 

“THAT’S BETTER THAN BAD! OR BORING. OR ANNOYING. OR POINTLESS. WHICH ARE ALL WORDS THAT YOU USE A LOT TO DESCRIBE WORK LATELY.” 

“yeah.” He doesn’t look at his brother. “hey, pap?”

“YES, SANS?”

“you, uh, still wanna have that human over for dinner sometime?” 

Silence. Papyrus even pauses in putting his things away. “YOU CHANGED YOUR MIND?” 

“just a thought. might be nice.” He thinks for a moment. “undyne likes her.” 

“I’LL TEXT HER!” 

“w-wait. maybe not right this second,” he says hastily. He can feel his bones flushing again. 

“MAYBE IN A COUPLE OF DAYS, THEN.”

“maybe in a couple of days.”

Papyrus hums, sounding amused, but doesn’t say anything else. Sans tries to retreat back into his hoodie as much as he can, as if he were a snail and not a skeleton. Is he being too forward? Things are different. Things feel… better this time. He has to make sure it stays that way. 

Even if that means being a little forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me at the start of quarantine: wow i'll actually have time to write  
> me during all of quarantine until now: 
> 
> you have gfuel to thank for this chapter


End file.
